


Check

by Blubunn



Series: Road to the Endverse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5x04, Abusive Behavior, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angry Dean Winchester, Angry Sex, Clothed Sex, Codependence, Controlling Behavior, Dubious Consent, Emotional Castiel, Endverse, Kept Boy Castiel, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Revenge Sex, The End, Unrealistic Dom/sub Undertones, nature sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 07:43:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11869737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blubunn/pseuds/Blubunn
Summary: Set in the year 2012, Dean returns to the camp in a rage, and Castiel has to decide if he’s going to make it better, or take the opportunity to keep it from getting worse.Chapter ImageMaster Artpost





	Check

“CASTIEL!” Dean bellowed as he slammed the door of the supply cabin open. Castiel’s head snapped up, guilt flashing over his face as he sat at the desk wiping at the tears pouring down his face. Chuck was standing bent over him with a hand on his shoulder. This was not a scene Dean wanted to come back to. Not today. He strode over to the two of them, shoving Chuck away from Castiel as he picked him up by his arm. “C’mon.”

“Dean--” Chuck warned, only to receive a sharp look from his leader. He looked like he desperately wanted Chuck to say something that would give him a reason to take a swing at him. Chuck returned the look with a scowl, but he remained quiet. After a moment between them passed, Dean pulled Castiel along with him out of the cabin and toward his.

This was not the first time he found the two talking like this. It was definitely not the first time Castiel had been in tears with Chuck trying to comfort him either. It seemed in the past few months, anything could set the guy off. It threw Dean at first, but now he wondered if something was just wrong with him. He didn't seem cursed or anything. He always insisted everything was fine with the angel front, so he just couldn't understand why he was so emotional lately. 

Castiel claimed he was just feeling useless and lonely, the latter being a sentiment that didn’t put Dean any more at ease with the situation with Chuck. He claimed that inventory work seemed like a waste of his skills, but no one really needed him for anything else around the camp. Especially as more people sought refuge from them. Jobs were scarce that people just tended to themselves for the most part.

It had been over a year since he lost Bobby, and Castiel still hadn’t been permitted to leave the campgrounds. Dean let himself believe that he could understand Castiel’s feelings, but it still bothered him that he wasn’t content with just being safe in the camp and at Dean’s side. Things were bad outside the camp, and Dean just didn’t want him to be a part of that, either as a witness nor as a participant. As someone responsible for so much during an apocalypse, Dean also saw great pleasure in the idea of not having to do anything. He wanted that leisure for Castiel as much as he wanted for his safety. He couldn’t understand why Castiel kept fighting him on that.

A few times, when Dean was too overwhelmed by Castiel’s outbursts, he cornered Chuck and interrogated him. While the little prophet kept to himself and appeared meek when approached about anything, he seemed to grow a backbone when the subject of Castiel came up between him and Dean. It was difficult for Dean to believe they weren't carrying on with something behind his back, but Chuck stood his ground that his interactions with Castiel were innocent. Of course, much to Dean’s annoyance, he made sure to always denounced him for how he handled Castiel. Even though Chuck was protective of him, he never intervened. Dean considered he was smart for that much at least. A prophet was useful in the camp, but it was hardly necessary in Dean’s opinion. Especially after what he found out today. If it hadn’t upset Castiel so much when he mused the idea of getting rid of him aloud, he was fairly certain he would've thrown Chuck out long ago when he started snuggling up to Castiel.

Dean shoved Castiel into his cabin, glaring down at him. “What is it?” he growled as Castiel tried to stop crying. “This can’t just be because you miss me. Why are you always so sad?”

Castiel could only take deep breaths, trying so hard to calm down. Anna had been right about becoming human. He felt everything so thoroughly now that he still wasn’t able to keep himself from getting emotional about it. He missed his family. He missed Heaven. He missed God. He was angry at God for leaving him. He was angry at Dean for imprisoning him in the camp. He was ready to fight for Dean, but he took that opportunity away from Castiel without any input from him. He felt like he was floating in the middle of the ocean with only enough strength to keep himself afloat. Everything weighed so heavily on his human heart, and he couldn’t stand it. The worst of it was that he couldn’t tell Dean about any of it. He found some comfort in Chuck, but Dean was his everything. Keeping all this from him was more than he could bear, but he knew that the alternative would be worse.

“Cas…” Dean tried to be calm, trying to put Castiel ahead of his own problem. Castiel seated himself on the edge of the bed, and Dean knelt on the ground in front of him. “Cas, are things really so bad for you? Are you really not happy being with me? Do…” He swallowed the bile in his throat as he asked, “Do you regret agreeing to be with me?”

“NO!” Castiel let out another sob, turning away from Dean as he tried to control himself. “No, Dean--I just--” He struggled to find the words through his tears, hating all the things he had to keep from him. He hated how terrified he became from the idea of Dean casting him out. Castiel used to be a warrior. He led his own garrison. Now, he just felt like a snivelling child who was of no use to anyone. He felt the bed shift as Dean sat beside him, pulling him into his arms. He held fast to Dean, trembling as he tried to swallow the tears that just didn’t seem to stop. Dean swayed with him in his arms, humming a soft tune. He knew Dean was only trying to help, but it only injured his pride more. Dean was trying to soothe a child.

Eventually, Castiel calmed down, wiping his face on his already damp sleeve. Dean brushed his fingers through Castiel’s unmade hair. “I’m sorry,” Castiel murmured. “I just, I just wish I could be out there with you. I get so scared you might not come back. I know you have the others to watch out for you, but that was my job first…”

That made Dean want to smile. If he didn’t have the day he did, he very well would’ve. “I keep very safe, Castiel, I promise. I’ll always come back to you. I just need to know that you’ll be here. It keeps me going to know that.”

“This place isn’t completely warded from danger, Dean,” Castiel argued, gently. “Something could happen when you’re away--” Castiel was startled when Dean thrust a forceful kiss on him. He felt him pushing him back into the mattress with just the pressure of it alone. Dean gripped his body with such avarice, he worried that he would have bruises he wouldn’t be able to hide from him. “Dean--” Castiel gasped, pulling away.

“Don’t say stuff like that to me, Cas,” Dean growled. “This place is safer than out there. I don’t want to think that you’re in as much danger here as you would be out there. I can’t think that.”

“But it’s true,” Castiel pressed him. “Let me come with you. Let me fight for you, Dean. I need to know you’re safe as much as you need to know I am.” He eased Dean back up to sit, letting him keep his arms around his body.

“It’s dangerous out there, Cas” Dean let his forehead fall to Castiel’s shoulder. “Now more than ever.”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw Sam,” Dean stated, pain in his voice. Castiel froze, looking at Dean, waiting for what he had to say next. They were quiet until Dean looked up at him, noting the dread on Castiel’s face. “He’s not dead,” Dean said, trying to put what he thought was Castiel’s fear at ease. He held Castiel tightly, pressing him into the bed again so Dean could drape his body over him. Castiel waited a moment before he wrapped his arms around him, cradling his head on his chest. Dean found comfort in that, but his voice was still sodden with agony, “He said, ‘yes,’ Cas. Lucifer has my brother.”

Castiel waited another moment, expecting him to say more, but Dean’s hold on him only tightened. “We’ll find a way to get him out,” Castiel soothed. “There has to be a way, but please. Don’t do it alone. Let me go with you. We’ll save him together.”

Dean shook his head, but he was lost on what he should do. He knew he had to find a way to save his brother, but that would mean leaving Castiel behind at the camp for more than a day at a time. Dean didn’t know if he could do that. He’d never been away from Castiel for that long since he restricted him to the camp, but bringing him along to hunt down a way to save Sam sounded more dangerous than a supply run. “I can’t lose you,” he murmured against Castiel’s chest.

“Dean--” Castiel began, ready to argue more, but then Dean’s lips were on his. He kissed Castiel so gently, it felt like he was handling a china doll. He moved his kisses from Castiel’s lips to his cheek, placing one on each side of his face. Then he pressed those kisses to his nose, his eyes, his forehead, working up and then following the path back down to his lips. Castiel inhaled sharply as the tame kisses seemed to ignite him more than Dean’s carnal ones. He crooned when Dean placed those kisses further, over the marks on his neck, in the dip between his clavicles, over his pectorals when he pushed the wide collar of his shirt open. Castiel felt like he was melting.

When Dean felt him soften in his arms, everything seemed to become clear. He couldn’t leave Castiel alone, but he couldn’t just abandon Sam either. There was only one real solution. “I’m gonna say, ‘yes,’ too,” Dean whispered against Castiel’s skin. All of a sudden, Castiel felt as though someone poured ice water on him. When Dean lifted his head to look at Castiel, their eyes met and he saw the objection in those sharp blues. “It’s the only way I can save him.”

“You don’t know that,” Castiel cautioned, trying to keep his voice even. “You haven’t even tried to find another way yet.”

“What other way is there?” Dean asked, reluctant to let Castiel go as he felt him pull away. “I can’t take you with me, Cas, but the time it will take for me to hunt down another way...it’ll keep me away from you too long, but if I demand for your safety, then Michael will help me get him back.”

“ _ Michael _ ,” Castiel hissed the name as he straightened his collar to cover himself, “will take your body and kill your brother. Your mind will be destroyed when he leaves. An archangel has too much power for a human to hold, even a vessel as strong as you.”

“I have to, Cas,” Dean urged, getting off the bed. “I’ll strike a deal with him. You and Sam. You’ll both be safe. Sam will take care of you for me, I know he will.”

“You can’t just pass me off to your brother!” Castiel snarled, horrified that Dean would consider it.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Dean shook his head, seeming to feel the same about Cas assuming he would want that. “I mean you two can be there for each other. As companions. Friends. You can be his brother in my place.”

“That...I can’t accept that.”

“It’s not your choice to make.”

“Dean!”

Dean turned away from Castiel and began to pray. Castiel watched him, knowing no one would come, but still appalled that he would make this decision without even considering another way. Without even thinking of how it would affect him. He wasn’t even willing to try to find another option. Castiel shook his head as he looked away from Dean’s back. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, but Anna and Gabriel had warned him. Even he couldn’t remove himself from the reality that he also kept Sam’s state a secret for this very reason. He didn’t want to believe that Dean would really choose Sam over him.

Then something clicked. Castiel looked at Dean’s back, when he realized this was much worse than what they predicted Dean would do. He wasn’t choosing Sam over Castiel. He was trying to sacrifice himself for Sam  _ and  _ Castiel. Castiel, the liar. Castiel, the manipulator. Castiel, the conspirator. He didn’t deserve that sacrifice. He knew then that he needed to tell Dean everything. “Dean…” he hesitated.

“Why aren’t they coming?” Dean growled. “Michael! ZACHARIAH! GET DOWN HERE, YOU ANGEL FUCKS.” Castiel winced as his voice grew louder. Suddenly, he was out the door before Castiel could stop him. He could hear him screaming for the angels. He was screaming “yes.” Castiel hurried outside watching others emerge from their cabins, stopping in the middle of the camp, all turning to witness Dean running through the grounds toward the woods, screaming to the heavens. Castiel followed after him, only partially noticing Chuck watching from the door of his cabin. He leaned against the frame with his arms folded over his chest, and he seemed utterly unfazed.

Castiel followed Dean’s voice into the woods, wincing as his sandals occasionally tripped him up and his toes would catch in the dirt. He stumbled and lurched in the soft earth, but luckily he never fell. By the time he reached Dean, he was so out of breath he couldn’t speak. He leaned forward, panting heavily and gasping for breath. He could hear Dean doing the same, both of them coughing and gagging from the exertion.

When their breaths finally slowed, Castiel looked up at Dean. They had reached an opening in the woods, and he was kneeling at the center of it, crouched forward with his fists clasped together on the ground and his head hanging in between his arms. Castiel took a step forward, wincing when he looked down to find he had torn his sandals. He kicked them off to the side and made his way to Dean. He could see him trembling when he approached. He knelt beside him, his movements silent in the soft dirt. “Dean…” he whispered. Dean didn’t respond, but his body stilled. Castiel watched him for a few minutes, trying to find a way to tell him why the angels weren’t responding. He leaned forward, reaching for Dean as he whispered his name again.

Suddenly, Castiel was on his back in the soil, looking up at Dean with wide eyes. Dean’s expression was fierce and dark as his gaze bore into him, his whole form seeming much larger than Castiel’s. Dean pushed his mouth to his, forcing his lips apart with his tongue. He pressed against Dean’s chest, frightened by this creature trying to possess him in Dean’s place. Dean pulled back just long enough to catch his wrists and pin them above his head. He pressed his weight into them as he leaned over Castiel again, kissing him hard. He could feel the earth bend to Dean’s weight, the soil seeming to hold him down for Dean to take.

“Dean…” he whimpered when he finally released his lips, gasping as he bit into his neck and shoved his legs apart with his knee. He groaned when Dean pressed into him, knowing this was the worse time to let him do this. The look that passed over Dean’s face when he looked at Castiel flashed in his mind, and he couldn’t bring himself to fight. The fury. The despair. He saw it all in Dean’s somber gaze. All he could do was let his body become pliant and accept the pleasure Dean needed to give him. He released Castiel’s wrists when the fight in them waned. He pulled him to sit up and in a swift movement, slid the loose shirt from his frame. 

The soil was cold against his skin when Dean pressed him back down and ran his lips over the muscles in his neck, biting at them with a soft growl. His lips trailed down his chest, biting at any fleshy spots he found along the way until they were dark and bruised. He wrapped his mouth around his nipple, rolling it between his teeth and sweeping his tongue around the hardened peak. Castiel could feel himself unravelling as his moans became unreserved, seemingly louder in the clearing than they ever were in Dean’s cabin.

Dean began to pull at the laces of Castiel’s pants with deliberate fingers, spreading them open to reveal his bare pelvis. Castiel would always wear underwear because James Novak wore underwear, but when Dean began dressing him, he didn’t supply any, so Castiel never wore them again. Now, Dean pushed his hand down past the laces and the feel of Castiel’s skin, bare, beneath his pants brought a small twitch to the corner of Dean’s lips. He switched over to his neglected nipple to begin teasing it to a point to match the other as his hand sought out the treasure between Castiel’s legs.

“Dean!” Castiel moaned when he felt Dean wrap his hand around him, arching his hips off the ground. He was already mostly erect from his bites, but after several resolute strokes, his blood filled his length to capacity. Dean moved to kiss him again, his touch below turning languid, just stimulating enough to keep the extremity interested while he worked on the rest of him.

Castiel cupped Dean’s face as he kissed him, allowing his tongue into his mouth when it blocked the way into Dean’s. Inside his own mouth, Castiel caressed and lavished Dean’s intruding tongue with attention from his own, pulling back just enough to suck on its tip before Dean pushed it back in with insistence. When Dean finally broke the kiss, Castiel’s eyes were dark, his hair was tousled from being pushed into the ground, and his skin was a battlefield of pale gold and milky pink. Dean finally smiled down at him, but it wasn’t a smile Castiel could place.

“You’re ready…” Dean released through a heated breath. Before Castiel could try to comprehend what he meant, Dean settled himself completely between his legs and lifted Castiel’s hips to slide his pants off, letting them disappear with his shirt. He kept his bottom from touching the dirt by balancing it on his lap. Dean leaned forward, holding the back of Castiel’s knees and almost folding him in half. He held his legs wide, exposing the pink opening he was seeking.

“Dean?” Castiel whimpered through the fog Dean had wrapped him in, the new position garnering a portion of his attention. Dean leaned his face forward, running his tongue along the rim of that rosey hole. It quivered as Castiel’s hips bucked, whether from surprise or pleasure, Castiel wasn’t sure. “D-Dean…” he gasped, gripping the earth beneath him. Dean’s tongue returned, teasing and wetting Castiel, pulling soft groans from his other end. Dean’s grip on his legs tightened to still Castiel’s thrusting hips because he knew this next part would drive him crazy. 

True to form, Castiel’s voice echoed through the trees when Dean plunged his tongue deep into him. He pitched in Dean’s grip, his arms extending, clawing at the soil beneath him and dragging back into his chest as he tried to come to terms with the new sensation Dean was providing him. Dean let saliva drip from his tongue, holding Castiel open to accept it, slicking him up as best he could with what he had. He slid his arm around Castiel’s waist to keep him in position before he replaced his tongue with his finger, gradually pressing it through.

Castiel whimpered at the intrusion, Dean’s saliva only partially making it bearable. His arousal helped to relax him, but there was some discomfort that he couldn’t escape. Dean persevered, easing his finger into Castiel and pressing along his inner walls to open him up. When he reached the cluster of nerves that would set Castiel into a fit, he made sure it became an integral part of his preparation. 

It was a while before Dean felt he could take a second finger with only his spit to help it along, but he repeated the treatment, pulling his finger from Castiel and pressing two into him just as painstakingly slow as he had the first, pulling and pressing against the walls inside him. He did this until he had four fingers inside him, opening and spreading Castiel as gently and as wide as he could get him. When he was finished preparing him, Castiel was trembling and tears ran from his eyes as every single sensation, new and old, overwhelmed him. He felt as though if he were to be drowning, it would feel something like this. 

“You’re doing so good,” Dean whispered to him as he lowered his hips to his lap. He smiled at the leaking appendage that rested between Castiel’s legs, watching it twitch under his gaze. It looked almost painful, but Dean didn’t touch it. He took a moment to take in how Castiel looked. He appeared positively ruined, and Dean licked his lips at the sight. He lifted his head to the sky with a dark smile, and prayed. He prayed that the angels saw what he was doing to him. He hoped they could see how far Castiel had fallen. Fallen for Dean. They ruined his brother, so Dean decided the best revenge was to ruin theirs.

“Dean…” Castiel whined, squirming in his hold. He looked down at him again. Castiel was stroking himself with fervor, unable to wait and unashamed of what he needed. He prayed God, wherever he was, could see this too. His entire family, Dean wanted to imagine them gathered around while Dean corrupted Castiel.

“Yes…” Dean whispered, watching him try to give himself the pleasure that only Dean could. “Is that what you want, Cas?” he taunted him. “Do you want to come like that? All by yourself?”

“You…” he whined, writhing in Dean’s grip as he stroked himself. He shook his head, “I want you…”

“Then you better let go,” Dean chided him. Castiel whimpered at that, and Dean knew the lack of stimulation while he was this fargone was getting painful. “Let it go, Cas,” Dean whispered with more authority, and he did, letting his hand fall into the dirt again, his hips jerking in Dean’s grip to seek out some relief. The sight of him pleased Dean. He could never bring himself to actually hurt Castiel. He didn’t want to do that, but someone needed to pay for the angels. For taking his brother and turning their backs on him. Castiel would be their tribute and Dean would destroy him with debauchery.

“Dean…” Castiel whined again, his low voice dragging on his lips, soaked in unresolved sexual tension. Dean leaned forward, wrapping Castiel’s legs around his waist so he could reach him, kissing him roughly, thoroughly. Castiel’s training was long forgotten, and he returned the kiss wet and desperate. Dean licked his lips when he pulled away, not minding his relapse in the slightest. It was only more proof that Castiel was completely his.

Dean leaned back, keeping Castiel’s hips on his lap and away from the dirt. He reached between them and unzipped his jeans, pushing them just low enough to extract himself, comfortably. He noticed Castiel’s eyes widen, watching him crane his neck to see him for the first time. Dean wasn’t particularly impressive. He and James Novak seemed to be in the same category as far as size went, above average for certain, but not monstrous. Dean, however, had been cut where James had not. Now Castiel was privy to that too.

Dean lifted his hand to his mouth, letting saliva puddle into his palm. He stroked himself, slicking his length up as best he could, making sure to get it wet with several applications of his saliva. “Help me, Cas,” he said leaning forward to put his hand by Castiel’s mouth. He smiled wickedly as Castiel turned his head to drool into his palm, without even being given that specific instruction. He prayed to God that they were all watching this. He pulled his hand back, brushing a dry side against Castiel’s cheek to wipe the spittle that slipped there. The two men moaned together when they watched Dean stroke himself with Castiel’s spit. He pushed his fingers back into Castiel, forcing him to whimper again as Dean made sure his earlier work was still in tact, refreshing it with a few pulls and tugs. Then, he began to push himself into Castiel.

“Ah!” Castiel let out a sharp cry as Dean pressed just past his barrier, waiting for Castiel to relax again when he felt his muscles clench.

“Breathe, Cas,” Dean groaned, struggling to keep himself from just taking him. He was on a mission for revenge, but he still had to remember this was Castiel. He had to take away as much pain as he could for him. When he felt his muscles relax enough, Dean pressed forward. He met with some resistance as Castiel struggled to remain relaxed for him, but he pushed past it causing Castiel to cry out and try to shift away. “Bear with me, Cas,” Dean grunted as he kept him in place, sinking his length into him.

“It hurts…” he whimpered, his hips trying to squirm away.

“You can take it,” Dean groaned as Castiel’s heat wrapped around him. He looked down at Castiel, who shut his eyes to the pain. “Look at me, Cas. Open your eyes.” He kept pushing in, but kept his eyes on Castiel until he looked at him. “You’re doing so good,” he praised, feeling his muscles twitch from the praise, sucking him in. “Look how strong you are. My beautiful soldier. You can take anything.” Then, he was in. Dean stroked Castiel back to life while he let him adjust to the fullness that was Dean.

When he began to squirm again, Dean started to move. He thrust gradually at first, trying to take it easy on him for his first time, but eventually, his true purpose began to take over. His momentum increased and the strength in his hips snapped him forward, steadily rising until he was taking Castiel the way he wanted the angels to see him be taken. He sought out that nerve cluster again, to help Castiel find pleasure in his brutal strokes. When he found the angle that allowed him to maintain his cruel thrusts, while he punched out salacious sounds from the angel beneath him, Dean lifted his head to the skies. Their moans mingled together, and Dean sent them to the heavens for the angels to hear. They took from him, so he would take from them. “As above, so below,” he breathed through his grunts into Castiel.

“Dean!” Castiel cried out, feeling that now familiar pressure in his pelvis. “Dean, I can’t...I can’t--” His voice reverberated through the trees when he unloaded all over himself, covering his stomach. Dean pushed forward, bending Castiel so he would release over his chest. One shot made it across his face, and Dean grinned at that.

“Now the final touch…” he whispered to himself, increasing his efforts, and taking advantage of the muscles spasming around him. He pounded into Castiel, the sound of their skin cracking against each other echoing through the clearing and into the sky like thunder. Then Dean let out a feral cry, and flooded Castiel, gripping his hips so tightly, Castiel flinched. When he felt the last of his load ready to be unleashed, he pulled himself from Castiel with a grunt and sprayed it over his chest. He pumped his sore length with his hand, trying to get one more across his face, but he was done.

Dean fell back on his knees, knowing they would be cramped, but he didn’t care. He looked over the mess he made of Castiel and smiled. He would mourn his brother until he found a way to save him, but at least he could bask in the satisfaction that he got his revenge.

He watched Castiel’s limp body for a moment longer before he tucked himself back into his jeans and shifted himself from Castiel’s legs to lay in the dirt beside him. He pulled Castiel to him, and used his sleeve to wipe his face clean before he kissed his forehead. “You did so good,” he murmured as he stretched his own legs. He tried to get the cramps out while he praised and applauded his angel’s efforts to take him with very little on hand to help him do so. When he heard Castiel begin to snore softly against him, he shifted to his back to stare at the sky, keeping him in his hold. He lay there for some time, letting Castiel sleep while he cursed Heaven. He cursed the angels. He cursed the devil. He cursed God. He would find a way to save his brother without them.

When his legs finally felt like they could move, Dean nuzzled Castiel in an attempt to wake him. He groaned unpleasantly in reply and tried to push his face away. Dean chuckled at that, giving his finger a little bite. “C’mon,” Dean said. “We should get back to camp.”

“Let’s just spend the night out here,” Castiel whined, burying his face in Dean’s chest.

“We’ll freeze out here when it gets dark,” Dean informed him. “Especially you. Let’s get your clothes back on.” He moved to sit up, taking Castiel with him. He stopped when Castiel let out a pathetic cry. “Are you okay?” he asked, alarmed.

“My butt hurts,” he groaned, moving away from Dean in case he tried to get up again.

“Still?” Dean asked with a raised brow. “I would think your body would’ve fixed itself by now.”

Castiel froze, looking up at Dean. Then he shifted his gaze to the side in his attempt to be shy as he said, “You went at me really hard...It’ll take some time…”

Dean couldn’t help, but snicker at that. “My poor angel,” he crooned, kissing his forehead and missing the tight look that passed over Castiel’s face. “Well, I can’t leave you out here, and it’s getting dark. Guess I’ll have to try to carry you. Unless you can fly. Then I can meet you back in the cabin.”

“No…” Castiel breathed, keeping his gaze to the side. “I hurt too much.”

Dean chuckled. “Carry it is. Let me dress you,” he added with a grunt as he pushed himself up. He smiled, seemingly sympathetically, when Castiel made soft, pained noises while Dean put his clothes back on him. He hoped they were still listening. “All right,” he said. “Hard part.” Dean laid on his side with his back to Castiel, and had him wrap his arms around his neck, and drape his leg over his waist. Dean then rolled onto his stomach, shuddering at the pained sound Castiel let slip out.

“Are you okay?” he asked from his back.

“Yeah,” Dean grunted as he pushed up to his sore knees. “Ground’s getting colder.” With some heavy breathing and a great deal of effort, Dean made it to his feet with Castiel on his back. He caught Castiel’s knees in his arms and started the trek back to the camp. They were quite a sight when they got back into view, people coming out to see the dirty couple make their way to Dean’s cabin. The prominent amount of dirt on Castiel’s back and Dean’s knees made it very difficult for anyone to think anything wholesome happened to cause Castiel to need to be carried back to Dean’s cabin.

On the way, Dean noticed Chuck watching them with his arms folded, tight, over his chest. He was glaring daggers so sharply at Dean, it almost felt that it came from a place deeper than just his dislike of his relationship with Castiel. Either way, when he met Chuck’s eyes, there was something deep inside his gut that made him give the prophet a big smile. He adjusted Castiel on his back with a little lift and Castiel let out a pained whimper. Chuck’s eyes darkened, and Dean’s grin widened. Later he would wonder about this exchange, but for now, he let himself enjoy it.

When they made it back, Dean eased Castiel on the bed, despite the dirt. He ran the guy ragged this evening, he decided. Letting him rest after taking everything he did to him seemed like the kindest thing to do. He helped him out of his clothes, and retrieved a damp washcloth to do what he could about the dirt before the two of them just passed out. “Awww, Cas, your feet got messed up,” Dean noticed, apologetically, but Castiel was already dozing. He made sure to be careful when he started to work on cleaning the dirt and blood from his feet. 

In the back of his mind, Dean couldn’t help, but wonder how long it should take an angel to mend his vessel of little cuts like these that he got several hours ago.

**Author's Note:**

> Omg, like seriously, "What does the Cas say?" amirite?
> 
> Check: When a player doesn't want to bet, he will pass his turn to the next player if no one bets before him. If someone bets after him, the betting will circle around again, and he will have to bet. If everyone checks, the dealer will reveal the next community card for free.


End file.
